


A Little Piece Of Heaven

by LilahLuck



Category: Fallout 3, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilahLuck/pseuds/LilahLuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fallout 3/New Vegas crossover. <br/>Just what does happen when a bullet wipes out everything you were before and sets you on a path that can save or damn a fledgling nation ?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ain't that a kick in the head.....

Blinding pain.  
The woman in the bed could attest to the fact that it can be a literal statement. She could hear people and the sound of a clock, feel sunlight and shade on her face even but she couldn’t see. Or more accurately it hurt too bad to even think about opening her eyes. Moving didn’t seem to be an option either, she wanted to lift her hand to the bandages she knew were there, to trace her fingers over that ball of fire in her head and try to make sense of it. Her hands just felt too heavy, weighed down by drips and more bandages combined with a pure lack of strength. It was both bewildering and annoying.  
They didn’t seem to be aware that she was awake. Nobody spoke to her as she concentrated on breathing, just spoke over her head in hushed tones that required concentration to understand. For the most part she didn’t bother, occasionally grasping words such as “stable”, “blood pressure” or other medical terms. It amounted to the presumption that she was going to live.  
Which was good, the utter lack of the ability to recall her own name was not so good. There was no memory there, whenever she tried to think about who she was, what had happened there was nothing. She knew she was in a quiet room, that it seemed to be in the Mojave and even a rough idea of time of day but nothing personal. Nothing that would help make sense of it and so she went back to counting breaths and attempting to move her hand or at least a finger.  
“When can we expect her to wake up ?”  
“Maybe in a few minutes, maybe never. By rights getting shot in the head should mean the latter.”  
The single exchange between the deeper male voice that she knew was the doctor and the soft female voice caused the woman in the bed to stop trying futile movements and listen harder. I have been shot in the head.  
Well fuck.  
It at least explained the blinding pain but in doing so it made the desperation to remember something even worse. Tiny fragmented images flitted across the movie screen behind her eyelids. A man in a check suit, a gun….more pain and a bright light. There were other images too, things further back of battles and walking, forever walking and never being able to rest. It all got too much and the woman let herself shrink back into the cool veil of unconsciousness.  
There were dreams, fevered echoes that faded and reappeared. The doctor watched them cross her face, some of them more obviously nightmares. He considered bringing her up and out of sleep, the stimpacks and drugs would be worth it to hear how she had ended up being pulled out of her own grave and deposited on his doorstep. He had noticed the wiry build and scars, although young this chit of a girl had been through other wars before this one. It intrigued the old man.  
It was another full day before she actually regained consciousness. It happened in an instant, the doc surprised as the girl suddenly gasped, her eyes flying open as she sat bolt upright. A half snarl escaped her lips, shaking the old man as he put an arm out to calm her before she bolted completely.  
“Woah, take it easy now. You’ve been out quite a while. What’s your name ?”  
There was a pause, her head cocking to one side as she considered the question. Her head throbbed and keened, more memories than she cared to think about coming back although something in her appeared to have changed. There had been many names, some she had chosen, others given to her. The original was long since lost, the ones who had given it to her were dead, the others that had known it had cast her out. In the end even those she had helped had done the same and so she had wandered further and further away until the bomb damage had become less obvious, there was grass and trees. Even here she had never belonged. Knowing the man was waiting she took a moment to take him in.  
The doc was old true but the eyes were sharp and there was no sign of frailty on him. The room was cool and shuttered, her own blood staining the sheets and floor. Medical supplies littered the workspace. She owed this man her life.  
“Angel. My name is Angel.”  
“Well it’s not what I’d have picked for you but if its your name…I’m Doc Mitchell.”  
There was a pause as they awkwardly shook hands and he took a moment to explain about how she had reached him, the robot called Victor and that she was in a town called Goodsprings. He gave her the pack that she had carried and Angel noted that her weapons were long gone. He then handed her a mirror.  
“Took some work getting that lead out your brain, see if I got things right or at least if you recognise yourself.”  
Angel stared at the reflection. Her hair had been shorn to nothing where the scar snaked back in the path of the bullet. The remaining side remained longer and still black. The green eyes were the same, many having mistaken the elfen features for a sign of naivety and weakness. They had been wrong then and they were wrong now. Even Angel herself was as yet unaware of the important changes that had been irreversibly started by the evisceration of brain tissue and bone. She smiled, an almost eerie sight in one so pale and still only a breadth from death.  
“I’ve looked worse. Thanks doc.”  
The spent the next hour in physical and mental tests until the doctor was happy that at least for now he could let her go with strict instruction to avoid any heavy lifting or fighting. The psych exam worried him, the girl was too cool and calm for someone that had been through what she had been through. Angel was focused, using the test to gain information of her own. The gaps were smaller now but she had no memory of being a courier or what she had been carrying. It was embarrassing enough to realise that one goon and his chums had almost accomplished what so many back east had not.  
The jump suit and pip boy brought back the memories of betrayal and made her reluctant to take either but to find the men who had so nearly taken her life they would be needed. She thanked the doc again and paused in his doorway to take in the small settlement and the roads beyond.  
None of them would know her legend. The Lone Wanderer, the victor of the war against the Enclave, saviour of the Capital Wasteland. The messiah who was spoken of in hushed tones from the Republic of Dave to Tenpenny Tower. The angel of mercy to the weak, of death to the murderer and raider. A burden for one so young and damaged to carry and it had nearly broken her.   
A job that had been finished by the bullet.  
For now this was no messiah. The morals and truths of her father had been erased and something new had taken its place. Something darker that cast a shadow now over the Mojave and if any among them had known what had been unleashed they may have called upon their gods and got out the way. Courier Six, the Angel of Death, would now walk among them and change things forever.


	2. Goodsprings

The doctors house was on a hill and Angel checked her rucksack while ambling down in, the sunlight causing more pain. Breathing was still something of an issue and the unnerving feeling of having forgotten something important dogged her brain. The bag was a disappointment, a few caps and battered pistol were the only things that interested Angel and it was thought that somewhere she had a good deal of better hardware than this shit….

No memory of bloody where though.

An exasperated sigh broke free and she nearly didn’t see the hulk of the robot until she wandered straight into the obnoxiously cheerful face in the middle of the screen.

“Well howdy partner ! You look mighty fine all things considered.”

Angel stepped back, swaying a little before regaining her composure.

“You must be Victor.”

“That’s right, mighty lucky I was passing by. Glad to see you back on your feet.”

Angel felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck, all the internal alarms ringing. Something was off here but there was no logical reason to doubt what the thing or the doctor had been telling her. Better to scope the situation out before making any decisions.

“Thanks for the save, any idea who the guys were that shot me ?”

“I ain’t never seen them before, didn’t see them do the deed but Miss Trudy may know.”

A metal claw waved in the general direction of the saloon across the street, the movement of the head this caused Angel provoked another round of nausea and she bid the robot farewell, watching him roll toward a shack back behind her, Angel made a note to snoop around there later. The rest of the town comprised of a few basic farms, crumbled houses and Brahmin. Thee huge hill at the other end intrigued her, the sign pointing out as a cemetery told her why.

Deciding to check on it after at least two slugs of whiskey and some information, Angel continued across the street to the Prospectors Saloon. Looked like every other shit hole bar but that kinda felt like home. It was cool inside and a dog came quickly up to lick her outstretched hand. Angel gasped. Dogmeat.

The one and only friend that she had ever had and the only one that, in the end, had stayed around long enough to matter. They had fought through it all, from the first meeting in the Scrapyard and on, past Liberty Prime and beyond into the semi retirement that had eventually forced Angel west. Sub consciously Angel fingered her head, this new scar wiped out an old one that had been one of the few times she had left that damn dog behind and been worse off for it.

In the end, Dogmeat had passed gently and with little pain. They had fallen asleep together propped up outside the Mojave Express office in Primm just before the fateful assignment and the old dog had simply not woken up. Maybe the reckless streak caused by that bereavement had led her to this. Somehow the old dog could be imagined shaking his head and whining at his owners stupidity.

“That’s Cheyenne. Don’t worry, she don’t bite unless I say.”

Angel grinned at the woman and shook her hand.

“Great dog. I’m Angel, your doc has been patching me up.”

“Sunny Smiles. I heard all about Victor digging you up.”

Angel shivered, the unease over the robot returning before she looked around.

“I intend on catching up with the bitch in the suit. I hear Miss Trudy is the one to ask. Is there any work going around here ?”

Sunny paused. The kid looked tough and had obviously had a hard break. She passed Angel a battered rifle and pointed toward a back door.

“Can you shoot ?”

“Not sure since I woke up but I was an ok shot before.”

Angel followed the girl and the dog, the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind. This place was a good tactical choice for a friendly port in the storm. If she played the residents right she could score a home and some back up while she regained her strength, pulled together the appropriate arms and equipment before finding the fuck that had shot her and pulling out his innards and setting light to his test…..

The thought pulled her to a stop, somehow that smile and that thought were not as repulsive as they used to be. In fact the idea of mutilating and dismembering the people responsible for this was actually sounding like more fun than she ever remembered things being before. Cute revelation.

“Try hitting the bottles up there.”

Angel steadied her breathing and ignored the VATS calling from the pipboy. This needed to be done blind, a test to see if her aim had been spoiled by the bullet. Skills with all types of guns had always been her strongpoint, energy weapons were fun but hard to come by. This talent and a good throwing arm with explosives had seen her right so far. She concentrated, taking in the breeze and allowing her mind to clear.

The three bottles exploded one after another, the glass shards dancing in the heat as Angel rapidly rearmed and fired the pistol to take out the last one. Sunny stood a little back, impressed and slightly more respectful. Most people had trouble to hit a barn door this far back.

“If you want work, try the safe in the schoolhouse. No-one here’s been able to crack it. I’m going down to the well, try and flush out the local critters. You wanna come ?”

“Thanks but I’m gonna talk to Trudy.”

Angel paused again, watching the young woman walk away. The dog close at her heels still gave her a pang but the relief at still being able to take out a target overrode it. The game was back on and now she knew she still had the tools to see it through. There had never been anyone could make her change course before and there wouldn’t be now.

With a new sense of purpose, Angel headed back inside.

 


End file.
